An Interesting Question
by jackdawsinflight
Summary: This is a story about Robbie, Laura and an interesting question. It's a question I'd love to be addressed in series 9, but I'm not holding my breath. This story begins with pizza at the end of The Lions of Nemea (Series 8) but then goes off piste.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: This is a story about Robbie, Laura and an interesting question. It's a question I'd love the real deal to address in series 9, but somehow I doubt they will. Most probably too 'soapy' (oh, but I do hope I'm wrong!). This story begins with pizza at the end of The Lions of Nemea (Series 8) but then goes off-piste on the canon front. Having just written a fair amount of fluff, I am intending this to be a bit more angsty than the subject matter might initially suggest. We'll see.**

 **As always, thank you for reading and comments are welcome.**

Chapter 1

"So, Lizzie, how long have you been married?" The wine gurgled from the bottle as Laura topped up Maddox's glass. Across the table, Robbie passed Hathaway the salad. It was dark outside, but the kitchen was warm and music drifted in lazily from the record player in the living room.

"Um… almost four years now." Maddox had drunk slightly too much on an empty stomach and needed to think about it. She spread her napkin clumsily on her lap. "How about you and… er… Sir - how long have you two been together?"

Laura threw Robbie a look over table. "Good question!" She took a sip of wine and tilted her head to one side, smiling at him.

"Too long!" Robbie laughed, through a mouthful of pizza, but looked at Laura with an affection that was only too obvious to the two younger members of the informal dinner party.

"It was rather a slow starter." Hathaway interjected by way of explanation. "You will have seen inanimate objects move faster than these two."

Maddox laughed. "So, you two have _history_?" The alcohol was loosening her customary reserve.

"You could say that." Robbie maintained his easy eye contact with Laura, who rolled her eyes in response.

"That's how it was with me and Tony." Maddox chattered. "An age of will-they-won't-they…"

"That sounds familiar." Hathaway murmured into his salad.

"… and then finally we got together and – bang! – we were married within a year."

"Married within a year?" Hathaway perked up. "How fascinating! Did you hear that, Robbie?" He glanced gleefully between Robbie and Laura, who were suddenly focusing intently on their food.

Robbie opened his mouth to speak, but was cut off again by Hathaway. "So when are we going to see you two tie the knot?" His face was straight but his tone was laced with mischief.

"Oh, I… we…" Laura began, at precisely the same time as Robbie emitted a nervous laugh.

"We… haven't really thought that far ahead." Robbie rescued her.

" _Interesting_." Hathaway smirked.

"Not really!" Robbie breezed. "Now, who's for another slice of pizza?"

* * *

Later on, Laura was tucked up in bed, eagerly devouring a novel on her Kindle, whilst Robbie pottered around in their en-suite bathroom, brushing his teeth.

"Maddox was on good form tonight!" He spluttered, almost incomprehensibly, through a mouthful of toothpaste. Clad only in his boxers and a marl grey t-shirt, he leaned against the bathroom door. Fondly, he regarded Laura in the soft light of the bedside lamp, her reading glasses perched precariously on the end of her nose. It was a sight to which he had grown familiar at this end of the day, but still it never ceased to please him.

"Mmm. I think she'll have a sore head tomorrow." Laura murmured, not looking up from her Kindle.

"And James was his usual morose and provocative self."

"Mmm." Laura was only half listening, too engrossed in her book.

Robbie spat the toothpaste into the sink.

"Do you think we should get married?"

This got Laura's attention. She looked up at him like a startled rabbit. He watched as a quizzical frown spread over her face. "What?"

He tried to hide a smirk. Oh, sometimes it was too easy to wind her up. "Get married. Me and you."

"Is this another canal barge episode?" She removed her glasses and narrowed her eyes at him. Several weeks earlier, Robbie had mooted the idea that they buy a boat for their retirement.

"No, seriously – not that I wasn't serious about the barge, we can talk about that another time – do you think we should?"

"Get married?" The bewilderment on Laura's face was beginning to morph into mild alarm.

"Yeah." He nodded, straight-faced, leaning roguishly against the doorway.

"Er…"

"Haven't you ever thought about it?"

Laura's lips began to form what she hoped was a diplomatic answer, but no sound came out.

Robbie laughed, "Wow, I don't believe it: Laura Hobson, speechless."

He switched off the bathroom light and walked across their bedroom, sliding under the covers beside her. Ignoring the tatty, upturned sports biography that was splayed open on his bedside table so as to save the page, he closed his eyes and pretended to be ready for sleep.

Laura was sitting bolt upright by his side, staring down at him incredulously.

"Robbie." She prodded him. "Robbie?"

Playfully, he opened one eye. "Yeah?"

"Are you being serious?"

He laughed, sliding his hand across her stomach so as to pull her down into bed with him. "No, pet. Don't worry."

Her relief was audible.

She deposited her glasses and Kindle on her bedside table before turning out the lamp.

Curling up against him as he pressed a kiss behind her ear in their usual bedtime routine, Laura settled down to sleep.

"Night." She murmured.

"Goodnight, my little lass." He snuggled in towards her and sighed contentedly.

Two hours later, neither of them had slept a wink.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

The following morning, Robbie, Hathaway and Maddox sat nursing cups of instant coffee in Hathaway's office. Each of them bore the slightly crumpled frown induced by an excess of red wine.

"Thanks again for last night, Sir." Maddox began, tentatively.

"Oh, thank you for coming." Robbie smiled.

"Sorry if I drank a bit too much and… er… said a bit too much." Maddox wrinkled her nose, awkwardly.

"Not at all." Robbie laughed. "You were fine. It was Hathaway who did most of the stirring."

He looked purposefully at Hathaway, who was pretending to be engrossed in his emails.

"My apologies." Hathaway murmured, almost inaudibly.

Robbie frowned and tried to concentrate on the lengthy witness statement in front of him. The marriage jokes had all been rather funny until he had sobered up enough to appreciate fully the look of aversion on Laura's face.

The image flitted around in his head all day, conjuring up all manner of responses within him. By lunchtime, he knew that he'd have to broach the subject again with her, for the sake of his own sanity, if nothing else.

* * *

He heard the front door shut and the jangle of her keys into the ceramic bowl on the hall table.

"Hi!" She called, cheerfully, and hung up her coat.

"Hi love." He responded from the kitchen, where he was laboring over a simple pasta dish.

"Mmm." She slid up behind him, wrapping her arms around his stomach and placing a kiss between his shoulder blades. "You're home early."

"I know. Making the most of the downtime before the next body turns up." He turned to face her, enveloping her in a big hug.

"Hey, don't knock dead bodies. They pay our bills, after all." Her voice was muffled as she pressed her head into his jumper.

She withdrew from his embrace to look inquisitively at the saucepan on the stove, which she was surprised to note was emitting a rather agreeable smell. "And you're cooking?"

"Yup. _I'm_ cooking." He gently swiped her hand away from a wooden spoon resting on the counter. "Seeing as you were unimpressed by my pizza-ordering prowess, I should try to make something proper for yer tea."

"My _supper_ , you mean."

"Potatoes, pot-ah-toes." He shrugged

"Normal people, northerners…" she mimicked his shrug, mockingly.

"Oi, you." The north/south divide was an ancient, but enjoyable bone of contention between them.

She sauntered over to a half-empty bottle of wine left over from last night, but then appeared to think better of it, exhaling gingerly and instead pouring herself a glass of water.

"So it wasn't just Maddox with a sore head this morning?" Robbie laughed.

"Nope."

"Ah well, a stodgy pasta tea will have you fixed up in no time. You go and put your feet up, I've already set the table. I'll call you when this is ready."

Laura eyed him suspiciously, "Who are you and what have you done with Robbie?"

"You cheeky beggar." He laughed, waving the wooden spoon at her, threateningly.

Once again she sidled up to him, slipping her hands around him and into the back pockets of his jeans. "Thank you." She eased herself up on tiptoe in order to place a grateful kiss on his cheek before heading into the living room to collapse on the sofa.

* * *

Later, they had curled up in front of the television with a cup of tea to watch the news. Still feeling agitated, Robbie used the remote to mute the sound.

"Laura, you know last night?"

"Yeah."

"Can we talk about it?"

"I _knew_ there was a reason you'd cooked dinner! After all those years of thinking you were an emotional enigma, it's only once I live with you that I discover I can read you like a book, Robbie."

He hesitated, noting her attempt to avoid the question. "It just got me thinking…"

Laura groaned. "Robbie…"

"No, just hear me out. It's been bothering me all day."

She turned to look up at him, her jovially disgruntled expression becoming somber.

"Has it?"

"Yeah. I just…" he took a deep breath. "I suppose I just wanted to ask whether you were being serious."

She twisted fully in his arms, bringing them both to eye level.

"Were _you_ being serious?" She asked.

"About getting married?"

"Yeah."

"Well, obviously I wasn't meaning to propose… but I was a bit shocked that you seemed so unimpressed by the idea – even in principle."

Again, her lips sought to form the diplomatic response, but the words failed her. She cleared her throat. "Well…"

"I mean, I know we were joking last night, but I had just sort of assumed that we would get married, one day. When we moved into this place, I thought that we were heading that way…"

"Did you?" Laura's tone was guarded.

"Well, we talked about the commitment, both financially and emotionally, and…" come to think of it, they had never actually used the M word.

"Exactly. We love each other. We live together. And we both intend to stay that way for a very long time."

"Yes…"

"So why do we need to get married?"

"To make it, you know, official."

"As far as I am concerned, this is official. We own a house together, for goodness' sake."

"But…"

"What is marriage going to add? Apart from the expense of a wedding? And a piece of paper?"

"Oh come on, now you're being flippant. Just for the sake of it."

"I'm not."

"So you are saying you don't believe in marriage?"

"No. I'm just saying that I don't think _we_ need to get married."

"It's not about needing to, Laura. It's about wanting to."

Laura hesitated, becoming visibly defensive. "OK. If you're going to push it, Robbie, maybe I don't want to."

Robbie was silent. Evidently hurt.

"So you don't ever want to be my wife?"

Laura sighed. "I'm saying I don't need to have that label to prove that I love you more than anyone else on the planet and I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I don't need a legal document to evidence that what I already know to be true."

Robbie inhaled and blew the air slowly out from his cheeks, toying with whether or not to verbalise his thought process. "Is this…" he began, uncertainly. "Is this about your mum and dad?"

Laura sighed, heavily, and her body stiffened. "No. No, it isn't."

"Just because your parents had an unhappy marriage and a bitter divorce doesn't mean all marriages are going to be like that."

"Of course not." Her voice wobbled with indignation. _Patronising git._

He looked at her and frowned. "I suppose we should have talked about this before."

"We _have_ talked about this before."

"Only ever in the context of your parents – I knew that you had very little faith in your parents' marriage - but we've never talked about it in the context of you and me."

"I thought you understood how I felt."

"Evidently not."

"I'm sorry." Laura frowned. She was well aware that this was a subject she had often skirted around, but she had hoped Robbie had somehow got the message. She cursed herself.

"So you don't ever want to get married?" Robbie was finding this hard to compute.

"Robbie…"

She reached for his hand but, in the absence of an affirmative answer, he moved away from her along the sofa.

"I see." He wouldn't look at her.

"I thought you knew." She said, quietly.

They sat in silence for what seemed like an age.

"So you're not even willing to consider it?"

"Robbie…"

"Being with me hasn't changed anything for you?"

"Robbie, now you're being unfair. Of course being with you has changed everything for me… but it hasn't changed my beliefs. My principles…"

"Your principles!" He scoffed. "Oh yes, silly sod I am to think I could get in the way of your principles."

"Now you're being ridiculous."

"Am I?" He almost spat. She'd rarely seen him this angry. Or confused.

She watched him knotting his fingers repeatedly, his jaw set firmly as he looked intently into the fireplace, rather than at her.

"I changed for you, you know." He spoke quietly.

A lump began to form in Laura's throat. "I know."

"I swore I'd never be with anyone again after Val. I swore it. But then you came along…"

"Robbie…"

"And I loved you so bloody much, I knew I had to let go of that promise."

He looked at her now, his eyes slightly reddened, his expression making her feel as though she was being cut in two.

"You're everything to me, Laura. And I would do absolutely anything for you. I thought that meant that, one day in the not too distant future, you would agree to be my wife. You'd have a ring on your finger telling the whole world that you're mine..."

"Why do you need me to wear a ring to prove it? You know that already." As much as she hated seeing him so upset, Laura wouldn't give in.

"Because…" Robbie sighed in exasperation. "You know me, Laura. I don't have some highbrow argument about the benefits of the institution of marriage. I can't write you a thesis about it like your Oxford pals could or wax lyrical in the Union about statistics, sociology and the family unit in society. If I'm honest, I never imagined I'd have to persuade you!" He laughed, scornfully, but then his expression opened up with emotion, "I just want to marry you one day. Plain and simple. Not because of my principles. Not because of my past experiences. I want to marry you because I love you. And I want us to be together. _Properly_ together. Married. Husband and wife. Call me old fashioned, but that's what I want..."

He looked at her, his face troubled and plaintive, as he saw hers close off. He knew his words sounded hopeless and ineffectual, but the sentiment came from deep within him. From somewhere immoveable. This was important. This was what he really wanted from her. More than anything.

"Robbie – I don't want to fall out over this." Gingerly, she moved towards him

He didn't respond. He felt suddenly foolish. Suddenly unsure about everything.

"Robbie?"

Wordlessly, he stood to collect their empty mugs from the coffee table.

"Where are you going?"

"I'm tired." He wouldn't look at her. "I think I'll get an early night."


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: You guys are top banana. The last lot of reviews gave me much to think about - especially your varied reactions to Laura. As a consequence, I drafted this chapter three times, three different ways (!). In the end, this is the one I've plumped for. For me, it's the most 'her'. She's complicated. She's not going to make it easy for us, but...**

* * *

The next morning, Robbie's side of the bed was empty when Laura awoke. His car had gone from the drive. He'd left for work early, without even a cursory peck on the cheek.

En route to the lab, Laura entered Ellen's number into the hands free set of her car and made her confession in full.

"You didn't?!"

"I did."

"Poor Robbie."

"You always take his side, Ellie."

"Well, in this case I'm entirely justified in doing so. You're such a commitment-phobe!"

"How can you say that? I've liked him for years." Clearly flippancy was Laura's current weapon of choice.

"Yes, but for most of which he was unavailable. That's probably why you liked him so much. You knew he was out of reach."

"That's just psychobabble."

"Is it?" Ellen laughed, but the question was genuine.

Laura frowned.

"I love him, Ellie. I really do."

"So why not get married?"

"Well, for a start, he hasn't actually asked me."

"Technicalities."

"He hasn't! At not one point last night did he get down on one knee. And, secondly, you know full well why. Marriage just isn't me."

"Oh Laura…"

"… Ellie you know this. We've been through it a million times before…."

"Yes, but never about someone I actually thought might be the one."

"The one?"

"Yes, Laura. _The one._ Don't even try to tell me that Robbie isn't different to all the others."

Laura frowned. "Even so…"

Ellen smiled at the reluctant admission.

"Why does it necessarily follow that we should get married?" Laura huffed.

"Because that's what normal people do. When they love each other and want to spend the rest of their lives with each other."

"But I'm…

"… not normal. I know." Ellen smirked.

'Thanks a bunch, Jacobi."

"You know what I mean. So what are you going to do?"

"Erm… nothing!"

"But what if Robbie isn't happy with that? In the long run, I mean."

"I don't know." Ellen heard the feisty spark fade from her friend's voice.

"I know I've said this to you countless times before – but marriage is about the people in it, Laura. Just because you get married, you and Robbie aren't going to turn into your parents. You're different people. By your own account, Robbie was a doting husband to his first wife."

Laura's lips tightened. "He was."

"So doting that he wouldn't let you near him until over a decade after her death."

"That's not the point."

"Oh sweetheart, it's precisely the point. He's a good man and he's evidently besotted with you. And you've been in love with him for longer than you'll ever admit."

"That may be so, but it still doesn't mean we need to get married."

"From your point of view, maybe not. But it sounds like Robbie sees it differently. It's obviously very important to him."

Laura was silent.

"From what you've told me about last night," Ellen continued, "it sounds like you're going to need a far better excuse than 'I don't want to'."

Laura sighed audibly and, gently, Ellen pushed on:

"You're not going to like me for saying this, but this is exactly the kind of things relationships end over."

Laura's stomach churned. "I know."

"So, it seems to me like you've got some thinking to do."

* * *

Laura ended the call to Ellen feeling resentful. And like a scolded school girl. Why did Ellen have to take Robbie's side? Why didn't how she felt seem to matter in all this? Why was she the one who was expected to make the compromise?

Things between her and Robbie were fine as they were. Better than fine. They were happy. She was happier than she had been in a long, long time. And, despite the odd spat and especially now that he was back at work, she knew he was too. Why did anything need to change?

For Laura, marriage wasn't the be all and end all. It wasn't something she'd imagined and daydreamed about all her life. Far from it. In her experience, marriage was the unnecessary glue that had held her parents' catastrophe of a relationship together for years. It was a senseless sense of obligation that had tied her parents to each other long after the love had died. Laura's experience of marriage involved no happy ever after: from an early age Laura believed that all married people must shout and scream at each other whilst their children cowered in their bedrooms. Around age 8, her conception of marriage blossomed into one of resentful, festering silences at the dinner table. At age 10, she presumed all married men must disappear from home for days on end. At age 12, she had an arsenal of swearwords more colourful than any of her contemporaries and a mother who was often still in bed when she returned home from school. By age 14, she had vowed never to be married herself – a promise only strengthened by the bitterness of her parents' divorce, conveniently timed for the start of her O-Levels. By age 15, it was all over and Laura breathed a heavy sigh of relief.

It wasn't a big deal. She wasn't scarred or emotionally damaged by the experience – her parents each loved her very much and she them. Neither of them was a bad person: they were _good_ people who had just fallen out of love along the way. She didn't blame them for that. But she would never understand why they'd stayed together so long. Why they had put them all through such misery. The therapist she had seen following being abducted and almost buried alive had tried to suggest they had done it for Laura's sake. Out of love for her. Laura had shrugged – perhaps that was so, but ultimately the culprit was marriage. And all the expectations, obligations and senses of duty it brought. She'd thought about it at length. She wasn't messed up, she wasn't scarred for life, she didn't need help – she wasn't a commitment-phobe (Ellen!). She just didn't ever want to get married. Simple as that.

Of course, neither was she there to judge other people's marriages. She fully accepted that, just her views were formed from her own experiences, other people who had grown up in happier homes would feel very differently. Ellen would feel differently. Robbie would feel differently.

 _Robbie._

Robbie, who had put Val on a pedestal. Whose marriage had borne two lovely children and whose love had surpassed even Val's death. For whom marriage was not only an expression of love, but also its necessary complement. Laura understood that. Or rather she understood why he felt like that. It was part of Robbie – his endearing straightforwardness, his capacity to give himself fully to someone else. In some ways it thrilled her that he was ready to do the very same for her. He was putting her on a par with Val, and having watched his devotion to her even in death for all these years, part of Laura was blown away that he was now ready to lay his heart open for her in a similar way. Robbie still believed in marriage, despite all his pain. Perhaps that made him a stronger person than her – after all, he was willing to go through it all again, whereas she wasn't even willing to try…

It mattered to Robbie.

That much was clear. She recalled his face last night. He'd never looked at her like that before. A flare of self-loathing gripped her insides as she remembered the disappointment and hurt in his eyes. It had not been her finest hour. The whole thing had caught her off guard. _Bloody Hathaway._ Previously, she had hoped that she and Robbie would be able to muddle along somehow avoiding the marriage minefield – perhaps, she'd thought, he wouldn't want to marry again… or, if he did, she'd be able to persuade him otherwise. Like all their other disagreements on principle, she'd hoped they'd simply find a way to agree to disagree. But she hadn't banked on the Lewis resolve.

No, that was unfair. She hadn't banked on how much it meant to him. How much _she_ meant to him.

Ellen's words echoed in her mind: _this is exactly the kind of thing relationships end over._ Laura had been here once or twice before with other men. At the crossroads between a deeper commitment or walking away. At all other times, the choice had been easy. But with Robbie it was different. She'd known for years he was different. In fact, with one recent relationship, he'd been precisely the reason she'd chosen to walk away. She couldn't imagine life without him.

Perhaps Ellen was right. Perhaps she had some thinking to do.

* * *

Later that afternoon, Laura was poring over her computer screen, analyzing some particularly turgid lab results. Her phone vibrated insistently and she delved for it under some paperwork on her desk. _Robbie?_

With disappointment, she registered the caller ID.

"James, if this is about about those results, I'm afraid I'm going to need a little longer…"

"Laura…" he used her first name. That was odd for a work call. "Where are you?"

She frowned. "I'm in the lab…" she didn't like the tone of his voice. "Why?"

Her heart began to beat faster, even before he answered.

"It's Robbie."

She swallowed. "What?"

"Stay there. I'm coming to get you."

 _Oh God._

"Why? What's… what's happened?" She breathed, feeling her stomach contract with a wave of nausea.

"He was in a scuffle with a suspect at Mansford College and he fell… or was pushed… we're not really sure… down a staircase."

"Is he…?" Laura blinked away the image that her professional experience conjured only too easily in her mind.

"The paramedics did what they could. They didn't say much." Laura knew exactly what this meant. Her blood cooled as she registered the fear in Hathaway's voice. "They'll be able to tell us more at the hospital - he is on his way to A&E."

Laura breathed. He wasn't dead.

"I'll be with you in five minutes." Hathaway ended the call and, in a daze, Laura managed to tell one of the lab technicians what had happened and where she was going. She retrieved her coat from her office and waited for Hathaway on the station steps. A colleague greeted her as he passed by. Laura didn't even hear. Neither she nor Hathaway spoke a word as they sped towards the hospital.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: I can't tell you how much fun I had reading that last lot of reviews. Even I don't know whose side I'm on any more! Ha ha. Here's another instalment (for a blissfully sunny Friday evening). Make of it what you will :)**

* * *

It was funny how different a hospital smelt, felt and sounded when you were on the receiving end, rather than part of it. Laura sat bolt upright in an uncomfortable plastic chair in the waiting room of A&E, watching the hospital staff pass to and fro: some rushing, some chatting, some dawdling. The smell of disinfectant seeped beneath her skin, making her stomach turn. She heard the squeak of trainers on the tiled floor, the rush of trolleys, the beep of the lift. All of these things were familiar to her, yet today they only served to fuel her panic. Her knuckles were white from gripping the seat of the chair, her insides were an empty mess of nausea, her jaw ached from the way it had been set since Hathaway's phone call… how long ago had that been? It felt like hours. Maybe days.

She couldn't be sure.

Various doctors had been to speak to her – some she recognised, some she didn't. Robbie had fractured his leg in the fall, cracked several ribs, but the more pressing concern was the bruising on his skull. He was in theatre now as they attempted to reduce the swelling on his brain. She'd not been allowed to see him yet.

She so wanted to see him.

Hathaway paced agitatedly up and down the waiting room, tracing a repetitive line between the magazine rack and the vending machine. It was getting late now and the casualties of the early evening's revelry were beginning to appear through the hospital's sliding doors. Laura shuddered.

She was so cold.

At great length, a tired-looking consultant emerged from the lift. Laura scanned his face, knowing he would tell her the results before he had even opened his mouth to speak. His eyes met hers and she exhaled deeply with relief. Robbie was still here.

Hathaway did most of the talking and Laura listened in a daze to the consultant's account of the procedure and its outcome. Whilst it had been a success, Robbie would be kept in an induced coma for several days – any lasting trauma to his brain would not become apparent until after that stage.

"When can we see him?" Her voice was hoarse, as though she had been shouting, her mouth dry. It was the only question she cared about.

"Soon, Dr Hobson. Soon." The consultant placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder, which served only to irritate her. It took all of her composure not to shrug it off. "I'll have someone come down for you as soon as he is ready."

More waiting. Endless, gaping chasms of time stretched out in the sickly green confines of the waiting room until eventually they were summoned.

* * *

Up on ICU, the charge nurse signed them in.

Hathaway provided his details first: "James Hathaway. I'm a colleague of Inspector Lewis."

"And…?" The nurse looked at Laura.

"Laura Hobson." Laura spoke quietly. "I'm his…" her voice trailed off, a lump forming in her throat.

"She's his other half." Hathaway added for her.

The charge nurse nodded, kindly, gesturing for them to follow her down the corridor. "He's just this way."

* * *

They had placed Robbie in a side room; mercifully the ward was relatively quiet this weekend. He was surrounded by tubes, wires and beeping machines, all familiar to Laura, but so alien when attached to Robbie. She looked at him, tucked up so neatly – so uncharacteristically assembled on the bed. Normally he would be sprawled half in, half out of the covers, usually with a book he'd fallen asleep in the middle of reading embroiled in the sheets somewhere beneath him. He didn't look right like this. He didn't look like Robbie. Her throat tightened.

"Can he hear us?" She heard Hathaway ask.

"Unlikely…" replied the charge nurse, "although sometimes people can." She looked at Laura's ashen face. "It can't hurt to talk to him, though. Might make you feel a bit better?"

Hathaway found Laura a chair and she sat by Robbie's bedside, reaching instinctively for his hand with both of hers. His hand was motionless but warm. Thank God it was warm.

Hathaway lingered, looking quizzically at the machine controlling Robbie's breathing, his expression pained. He scowled before excusing himself so that he could call to update Innocent.

Laura stroked Robbie's hand. She found she couldn't speak to him yet. She didn't know what to say: where to begin. She just stared at him, laid out, still, before her. She wanted to climb into the hospital bed with him, to wrap her arms around him and tell him she was here. She wanted to kiss his face and cradle his bruises and broken bones. She wanted to shout at him at the top of her lungs.

"You better not leave me." She murmured. _I don't know what I'd do without you._

The exhaustion and shock finally found her, the stoical stare of the past few hours ultimately clouding with emotion, as hot tears rolled noiselessly down her face.

* * *

James drove Laura home and, as he stopped the car on the pavement outside the house and she undid the seatbelt, the journey up the path to her darkened front door seemed like an almost insurmountable distance.

"You going to be ok?" He asked, as though reading her thoughts.

She turned towards him and forced a smile. "Yes, I'll be fine." She looked at him properly. "Thanks, James."

He too affected a smile in response. "It's the least I could do."

Somehow neither of them seemed able to mention Robbie's name, nor able to murmur any half-baked, mutual reassurances. It wasn't part of their makeup.

Instead they sat in silence.

"I'd better get going." She murmured.

James nodded slowly, his jaw tightening. "If there's anything you need..."

"Yeah." Laura pushed open the door of the car, hurriedly.

Hathaway gripped the steering wheel with a grimace. He forced himself up out of the car and she threw him a questioning look in the streetlight.

"I'll just… ah… see you to the door. See that you're settled." He shrugged.

In a parallel universe, another Laura would have scoffed and muttered a firm put down. But this Laura was weak at the knees with worry. Set rigid with exhaustion. She managed a genuine smile in acceptance and heard the bleep of the lock on Hathaway's car, the only sound in the silent street.

The wall of 'Robbie' hit her as soon as she pushed open the front door: the sights, smells and sounds of their home. Hathaway followed her into the hallway, his feeling of utter redundancy expressed by his hands that were plunged deep into his coat pockets and the strain on his face. Laura busied herself with trying to bring some light to the darkened house. He hovered behind her, frowning.

"Cup of coffee?" She asked.

"No than-…, oh, ok, er, yes please."

Laura plodded numbly into the kitchen and filled the kettle.

"I hope you don't mind, but I'll be having something stronger." She reached a bottle of brandy from the cupboard, trying not to notice the breakfast dishes that Robbie had left in the sink earlier that morning. Back when things had been normal.

A silence hung heavily as she prepared both drinks. Hathaway leaned awkwardly against the kitchen counter. He watched Laura padding around the kitchen, visibly straining to maintain a sense of normality. The full pint of milk sloshed clumsily into his coffee, splashing the counter top. She swore, uncharacteristically, and when she put the milk down, he could see her hands were shaking. He went over to her:

"Tell me what I can do to help. Is there _anything_ …?"

She closed her eyes and swallowed, exhaling slowly as she battled to compose herself. "No." Her voice was painfully unsteady. "No, thank you James." She handed him his coffee and took a swig of brandy, wincing against but almost grateful for the burning discomfort it unleashed on her throat.

Once again silence descended. Laura refilled her glass.

Hathaway could sense she wanted to be alone, yet he felt terrible leaving her. It was torture to see her like this, staring bleary-eyed into the soupy darkness of the back garden: so vacant, so un-Laura. Somehow leaving her alone felt like a betrayal of Robbie. Yet he knew she didn't want him here. She didn't want company for this. She didn't want a witness.

Some time later, he excused himself. By then, she'd had three glasses of brandy and he wasn't sure she even registered his goodbye. He walked reluctantly to his car, looking back over his shoulder in the hope he would see a light going on upstairs and thus an indication of her settling down for the night. The upstairs windows remained dark. With a sigh, he started the car and left.

Laura heard the car engine fade into the night and with it the need for her to hold it together. Her shoulders loosened, the shock and disbelief finally flooding into her with such force, it made her want to retch into the sink in front of her.

She wanted Robbie.

She stumbled upstairs to their bedroom, leaving the lights on downstairs and the front door unbolted. Her brain was a whirling frenzy of panic, remonstration and regret. She recalled the last things she'd said to him. The look of rejection: the hurt on his face. It killed her to think she might never have chance to say sorry, to take it all back. She picked up the t-shirt he'd slept in last night – hung sloppily over the back of her dresser chair – a fact that normally would have irritated her, but tonight made tears form in her eyes. She held it to her face, inhaling the smell of him, yearning for him a way she would never have thought possible. She undressed clumsily and put it on, curling into a tight ball on his side of the bed.

Her thoughts wandered inevitably to Robbie alone in the hospital. Just lying there, inert. Despite all of her medical experience it was utterly bizarre to contemplate him being in an induced coma: existing but not really 'being'. She could count on one hand the number of times they had spent apart since they moved in together. Yet tonight felt cataclysmically different. She couldn't ring or text him. She couldn't picture him drifting off to sleep. His life was in the balance, supported by machine. He was the furthest away he could be from her without actually being…

… _No_. Furiously, she shook her head. She wouldn't think about that. The brandy burned with the unending nausea in her stomach and sweat prickled on the back of her neck. Irrationally, she found herself too frightened to switch out the light: scared of what the darkness might bring for the first time since she was a child.

"Robbie."

The sob rose uncontrollably in her throat, fading unheard into the emptiness of the house. What she would give to have him back here by her side. Anything. Anything – she'd do anything. The fear bubbled upwards within her, forming as hot tears that streamed down her face and soaked into his pillow.

She lay, curled up and rigid with terror, until morning, listening to the wind torturing the roof tiles as the rain hammered against the window.


	5. Chapter 5

Laura must have fallen asleep at some point because she awoke just before her usual work alarm. For a split second, all was well; she was warm and her thoughts were vacant. But then it all came clattering back. _Robbie._ She lifted her head and immediately regretted it. The excess of brandy and vehemence of her tears last night had left their mark, causing a shard of pain to grip her neck. Her tongue felt swollen and parched, pushed hard against the roof of her dry mouth, making her jaw ache. Her head pounded. Her face felt bruised from lack of sleep. _Robbie._

She checked her mobile. No messages. No news.

She stumbled her way into the bathroom and then downstairs to the kitchen, groping for the coffee. Frantically, she bit back the all-too-ready tears as she registered the silence in the house. Normally, he would be clattering around somewhere, cursing the stain on a tie or an errant pair of old socks. Normally, the radio would be on and he'd be arguing with some talk show guest or singing along with some crooner. Normally, she would be making coffee for two. Normally, just about now, he would be coming to find her, freshly dressed, smelling clean and ready for a day's work, and kissing her goodbye…

Today he was everywhere but nowhere. And Laura felt his absence as though it were a physical pain.

Clutching her coffee, she decided the best tactic would be to keep busy. Quickly, she checked her work emails, updating her out of office, forwarding certain tasks to her colleagues and sending some holding responses. Her colleagues sent an instant barrage of replies, instructing her to step away from the computer and to leave her work to the rest of the team. She was touched, but also slightly panicked: without Robbie and work, she was totally adrift.

She plodded dazedly upstairs, stooping to make up Robbie's side of the bed, where she had slept last night. She lingered over the task, inhaling the smell of him that still emanated from the covers. She straightened his bedside table, touching the photo of them both that he kept there. It had been taken at a recent party: his arm was round her, his hand splayed possessively across her waist. She was laughing into the camera and Robbie was looking at her, smiling widely. She quelled the melodramatic murmur in her mind: _will he ever look at me like that again?_

She took a deep, unsteady breath.

Think positively. How many times had she given this advice to others? How easy it had been to say. How difficult it seemed to put into practice now as she stared vacantly out of the window down onto their back garden. Berating herself, she began to gather things that Robbie might – no, _would_ \- need if – no, _when_ – he woke up. Locating a toiletry bag that she'd bought him when they finally made it to Glyndebourne last summer, she filled it with his razor, toothbrush, soap and her favourite of his aftershaves. Before packing the latter, she allowed herself a deep intake of its smell, closing her eyes and imagining Robbie's arms around her.

 _Get a grip, Hobson. He's not dead yet._

With a grimace, she remembered how they had argued the night before last. And over what. _What a difference a day makes._ It was one of Robbie's standard utterances when a case took a sudden turn – for better or worse. As she stood there, alone, her life turned cataclysmically upside down by the absence of someone else, never before had it had such resonance.

She needed to get to the hospital.

* * *

The hours spent by Robbie's bedside merged slowly together, punctuated by visits from Hathaway, Maddox and Innocent. Hathaway brought Laura coffee and then loitered in the shadows at the foot of Robbie's bed. Of everyone, he seemed to find it most difficult to talk to a man in an induced coma, preferring instead to talk to Laura in a loud voice about him, in the hope that he could hear. Clearly – _painfully clearly_ – Hathaway felt responsible for what had happened. He had been pursuing another lead when Robbie had had the altercation with the suspect at the top of the customarily steep and treacherous stairway of the Oxford college. Now Hathaway's guilt pulsated visibly in his jaw muscles. Repeatedly, he mentioned the suspect and the various stages of bringing him to justice. Of course, an attempt on a police officer had the station brimming with activity as the long arm of the law recoiled masterfully in protection of one of its own. Laura was glad she had been given some days' leave and did not have to endure everyone's well-meaning attentions. She was glad she had some space to be alone with Robbie.

Maddox brought flowers from her garden, some magazines for Laura and the loan of an iPod loaded with various songs she remembered from the evening they'd all spent together:

"I don't know if he can hear anything – in fact it's probably stupid – but I just thought he might like a bit of music instead of all the bleeps…" she gestured towards the machines and smiled self-consciously, suddenly feeling silly in the presence of her comatose boss and his medically trained partner, who no doubt thought she was mad.

However, she needn't have worried: Laura was so touched that her breath caught in her throat. "That's very thoughtful, Lizzie. Thank you."

Maddox looked compassionately at the washed-out, bleary-eyed woman opposite her. "This must be so hard." She said simply.

Grateful for the acknowledgement, Laura attempted a smile and nodded, not trusting her voice to give any further detail. Mercifully, Maddox understood and began instead to chatter to Robbie about all the gossip from the station, regaling him with hilarious and very accurate impressions of Hathaway and Innocent, telling him how much everyone missed him and sent their love. Laura watched Robbie's expressionless face and told herself sternly, in spite of her better medical judgement, to believe that he could hear every word.

Innocent's visit was the hardest. By this point in the day, Laura's guilt over her and Robbie's argument had reached fever pitch. Innocent stalked into the room and dropped a customary quip in Robbie's direction, "The lengths some people go to in order to get a day off work, eh?"

She placed an excessive bouquet of flowers on the table by Robbie's bedside. Then she turned to Laura, betraying the slightest twitch in her face as she noted her disheveled appearance, before enquiring, "How is he doing? What have they said?"

Glad of an excuse to talk 'shop', Laura provided Innocent with a full run down of Robbie's condition and prognosis. The bruising on the brain remained the biggest concern: whilst the swelling was slowly reducing, the doctors were playing it cool. "There are no guarantees at this stage." Laura concluded, her voice quiet but firm.

Innocent took a moment to consider the news, but then turned to Robbie, perching on the side of the bed, "Now, you listen to me, Robert Lewis. This is your senior officer speaking. You bloody hurry up and get better, OK? I won't take no for an answer. And neither will Laura. We all need you far too much for you to be thinking about doing anything else other than emerging from this completely unscathed, do you understand?" Innocent looked up and Laura forced a humoured smile. "He's going to be fine, Laura," Innocent spoke through a tightened jaw, though she tried to hide it, "Don't you dare to think otherwise, OK?"

Laura nodded, slowly. Evidently, they all had their own demons to fight in this. Even Innocent.

* * *

Later that night, as the ward quietened and the darkness thickened outside, Laura sat by Robbie's bedside to wish him goodnight. She leant over and placed a kiss on his cheek, trying to ignore the longing for him to move in response. "Night, my darling." She swept a few wayward hairs back under the bandage that surrounded his head and adjusted the blanket around him, before dropping her voice to a whisper: "Come back to me, Robbie. Soon. Please... If you do, I promise that…"

She was interrupted by what she thought was a nurse coming to check Robbie's medications. She turned and immediately rose from her seat.

"Lyn…"

"Laura… hi…"


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: sorry for radio silence. The past two weeks have been crazily busy. I am still writing this, I promise, but updates might be a bit more sporadic than they have been. Sorry!**

 **Recap: Lyn's just walked into Robbie's hospital room.**

* * *

Laura put her arms around Lyn in greeting, their initially hesitant embrace soon yielding into something more powerful. She stepped back to take in the sight of Robbie's tall, slightly gangly daughter, her hair scraped back into a pony tail, her slender frame swamped in an oversized charcoal jumper and skinny jeans. Make-up free, her face looked pale and pinched with tiredness, but a familiar pair of watery grey eyes shone out from underneath her dark eyelashes.

"I'm sorry, I wasn't… _we weren't_ expecting you until tomorrow… I would have picked you up from the station." Laura withdrew.

"Don't be silly. I got on an earlier flight and my phone ran out of battery so I couldn't text you." Lyn was addressing Laura, but her eyes were fixed firmly on Robbie. She looked worn out. Having been on a specialist nursing course in the US, she had travelled home as soon as she had heard the news.

Laura stepped instinctively back from the bed, allowing Lyn full access to her father. She watched Robbie's daughter with discomfort, recalling only too vividly how she herself had felt upon first sight of him in this state. Lyn's eyes filled and she sat down by his bedside, reaching for his hand.

'Dad." Her voice wobbled. "Dad, it's me, Lyn."

Laura hovered uncertainly at the foot of the bed. Lyn looked back at her.

"I'll go," Laura whispered, gently, "and give you some privacy."

"No." Lyn's eyes were tired and frightened. She corrected herself, "I mean – don't go. Stay. I know he'd want us both here."

Laura nodded and drew closer.

Lyn looked round at all the medical paraphernalia. Just like Laura, whilst she was used to all of this, having spent most of her working life in a hospital, it seemed so bizarre when it was attached to her dad.

"How's he getting on?"

For the umpteenth time that day, Laura parroted the ins and outs of the situation. Lyn listened carefully, asking the odd question, but mostly just staring helplessly at Robbie.

"He looks so weird." She murmured.

"I know."

"I keep expecting him to laugh and say this is all a big practical joke."

Laura smiled, wearily.

"Do you think he can hear us?"

"I don't think so. But you never know. I've been talking to him anyway."

"That's good. He'd like that."

"He'll be so glad you're here, Lyn." This time it was Laura's voice that wobbled.

"Pat's coming too."

"He is?"

"Yes, did you hear that, Dad?" Lyn leaned over to Robbie, before turning back to Laura. "He managed to get a flight out of Sydney at lunch time today so he should be here sometime tomorrow afternoon."

Laura nodded as a wave of emotion hit. Robbie would be so delighted to see his son. Although they talked occasionally on Skype, they'd not seen each other since Robbie had ventured out to Australia two winters ago. Of course Pat would feel the need to travel to his father. Of course he would. But the fact he was going to scared the hell out of Laura. The last time Pat had returned to England was for his uncle's funeral. No, no… she had to stop thinking like that.

"Well, that's good." She managed.

They both stared at Robbie.

"Do you…" Lyn's voice fell to a hoarse whisper. "Do you think he's going to be OK?"

Laura swallowed, gritting her teeth against the emotion that seemed almost insuperable after the past 48 hours.

"I hope so." She murmured.

Lyn's head dropped and her shoulders began to shake. Furiously, Laura tried to bite back her own tears as she went over to Lyn, sitting on the armrest of the chair and wrapping her arms around her.

"Hey, shhh."

Lyn sobbed into Laura's jumper, as Laura gently rocked her, letting her cry.

"First mum, and now…"

Laura grimaced. "Oh, Lyn."

"You look so worried, Laura. And you're a doctor."

Laura sighed. Giving others false hope wasn't in her nature, but nor was trampling the faith of someone she cared about. Someone she wanted to protect. "We've just got to take it a day at a time, Lyn." She withdrew in order to make eye contact, passing Lyn a tissue.

Lyn looked up at Laura, whose tired blue eyes were making their best attempt at reassurance and whose lips were being forced into a half-smile.

"And, if we're looking on the bright side," Laura continued, "that fall could have killed him. But it didn't. He could have died on the operating table. But he didn't." She squeezed Lyn's shoulders. "He's still here."

"Yeah." Lyn sniffed. "You're right."

"Just a day at a time. That's all we can do."

Both women watched the artificially steady rise and fall of Robbie's chest. In some ways Laura felt glad to have Lyn's company. It felt comforting to have someone else to think about, someone else to share it with. In other ways, it presented a challenge. She was doing it already – putting on a brave face for Lyn's benefit, yearning to protect her from the worst. She managed a shaky smile as she imagined Robbie telling her that was exactly what families were for.

"Come on." She said to Lyn at length. "I think you could do with some sleep."

Lyn took a deep breath and nodded. She watched Laura place a kiss on Robbie's cheek and whisper goodbye, before following suit.

"Bye, Dad. I love you."

* * *

Laura drove them home through the drizzly city, the rain spattering on the windscreen and the streetlights subdued as though to match their mood.

Her stomach growled through the silence and she laughed apologetically.

"I bet you haven't eaten." Lyn chided.

"No…" For the first time in two days, Laura felt hungry.

"Me neither. How about stopping for chips?"

Laura smiled. _Like father, like daughter._ "OK. I know a place."

Five minutes later, Laura pulled over and dashed through the rain into a seedy-looking kebab shop, emerging with two polystyrene boxes overflowing with chips.

"Mmm. They smell amazing." Lyn took the chips greedily as Laura started the car.

Laura laughed. "They're one of your dad's guilty pleasures. Best chips in Oxford… or so he claims."

"Really?"

"Uh huh." Laura nodded with mock sobriety. "To be enjoyed with a cheap bottle of Merlot and a Mars Bar for pudding." She patted her jacket pocket, in which two chocolate bars were safely stowed.

Lyn's face lit up for the first time since her arrival as she laughed. "Now that sounds like dad!"

* * *

After they'd eaten, Laura lit the fire. It wasn't cold, but she'd felt a chill all day. She and Lyn sat nursing the dregs of the bottle of red, watching the flames.

"It's such a lovely house, this." Lyn relaxed back into the comfortable warmth of the sofa.

"Yeah, it's not bad. We like it."

"Oh, I can tell it's all your doing – it's so much nicer than that pokey little flat of his."

"Actually, your dad chose it." Laura smiled. "I wanted him to move in with me, but he found this house… on the Internet of all places." She remembered Robbie cajoling her into booking a viewing and her resisting every last inch of the way: right up until the moment she'd stepped through the front door and got a funny feeling in her chest. She recalled how he'd looked at her, smiling widely: _I told you so._

"Dad on the Internet. God help us."

Laura laughed. "You'd be surprised. He's got an iPad now and everything."

"Clearly you're a good influence."

"Bringing him kicking and screaming into the 21st century." With a fond smile, Laura took a sip of wine.

"No, seriously, Laura. I mean it. I just look around at this, your home, and how lovely it is. How warm it is. How happy I know he is. How happy you've made him…"

Laura shrugged, ducking the compliment, so Lyn continued:

"…I love it when I speak to him on the phone nowadays and he has so much to talk about. About you… about life. And, best of all, when he puts the phone down, I know he's got someone to go to. To keep him company, you know?"

Laura looked down at her lap.

"And…" Lyn swallowed, "if the worst happens, well, at least he's had this last 18 months with you. With you making him happy. Happier than he's been in a long, long time."

With a pang in her gut, Laura's mind clouded and her face twisted. _I wouldn't be so sure._

Noticing the change in Laura's expression, Lyn became flustered. "Sorry, have I upset you? I didn't mean… I just wanted to…"

Tears filled Laura's eyes and she turned away, swiping them off her cheeks with her fingertips.

"Oh God, I'm sorry." Lyn moved nearer to Laura on the sofa, hovering hesitantly.

"No, no. Just ignore me." Laura coughed, trying to stop the tears.

Lyn waited and eventually Laura turned back towards her, her eyes awash with anguish. Lyn looked at her, questioningly.

"It's silly, but…" Laura's eyes filled again as soon as she tried to speak. "…the night before he fell, we argued."

Lyn reached out to rub Laura's arm. "Oh, Laura - _everyone_ argues."

Laura attempted a smile, but this only served to spill tears down her cheeks. She looked beseechingly at Lyn, so desperate to share her distress with someone, but knowing that she should not burden Lyn with information that would most probably be difficult for her to hear at the best of times, let alone now.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Lyn ventured, unnerved by the desperation upon Laura's face.

Laura frowned and shook her head. "I don't think it's something you'll want to hear."

"Honestly Laura? My dad's in a coma. I'm not sure there's much to hear that's worse than that."

Laura's body flooded suddenly with exhaustion: she was at the end of the line. "You sure?"

Lyn rested her hand gently on Laura's arm. "Try me."

"OK," Laura relented, her entire being heaving with a sigh. She looked Lyn straight in the eye:

"Pretty much the last thing I said to your dad was that I didn't want to marry him."

"Ah."


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: sorry for the hiatus. Here's the next instalment. Just to jog your memory, Laura has just told Lyn that pretty much the last thing she said to Robbie was that she didn't want to marry him.**

* * *

"Ah." Lyn looked down at her lap, focusing on a stray thread on her jeans.

"See." Laura's voice was resigned. "I knew you wouldn't want to hear it." She took a regretful swig of wine.

Lyn's laugh in response was hollow and slightly pained, her shoulders slumping visibly. Laura shifted uneasily on the sofa:

"Sorry… I know this can't be an easy topic. I shouldn't have said anything."

"No, it's not that." Lyn's eyes met Laura's with force. "I'm not upset that he asked you."

"No?"

"No…" Lyn hesitated, "I knew he was thinking about it."

"What?"

"We'd spoken about it a couple of times." Lyn shrugged. "I've had time to get used to it. And, besides… as I told Dad, it's not really up to me is it?"

"I didn't know he'd spoken to you about it." Laura dodged the rhetorical question, still trying to catch up.

"You know what Dad's like. Always wanting to do things by the book. He sounded Pat and me out a little while ago. Just tentatively. Just floating the idea of it, you know?"

Laura swallowed, her mind seeking vainly to order the array of emotions Lyn had unleashed. "I see," was all she could manage.

"And, even though it's a bit weird talking to your dad about him remarrying, I was glad he was happy. Glad he was so happy that he was thinking about taking such a big step."

Laura set her jaw, staring into the flames in the hearth, as Lyn continued:

"It's a bit of a surprise that he asked you so soon, but other than that…"

Laura swallowed. "He didn't ask me."

"But you said…"

"He didn't propose. We just ended up having an argument about it because of something James said when he was over for dinner. It was stupid. Totally stupid. James was just stirring… but he inadvertently hit a bit of a nerve and… well, let's say some uncomfortable home truths were exchanged."

Lyn took a moment to absorb this information, "So… if he didn't ask you, then you didn't actually say no?"

Laura registered the unexpected relief in Lyn's voice. "No… but…" She began and then faltered. She waited for the indignation, the customary aversion to the very mention of the subject of marriage, to rise with bitterness in her throat, but nothing came. She was numb. She was so tired. And maybe… just maybe…

"Good." Lyn's voice tightened as the vivid image of her father lying motionless in a hospital bed flooded through her once again. At least he hadn't been rejected on top of everything else.

"But…" Laura tried once more, but somehow everything she wanted to say sounded so insignificant. She sighed heavily and glanced at Lyn. Robbie's daughter looked almost childlike– so tired and pale after a long haul flight and the hours of anguish. For the second time that evening, Laura felt a powerful pang of protectiveness. Somehow, she didn't want Lyn to have to hear the home truths that she'd so callously administered to Robbie. Not tonight, anyway. "I suppose it's just a bit complicated," she finished, quietly.

Lyn nodded slowly, misjudging Laura's reticence. She drew her knees up towards her and stared into the fire. An awkward silence fell.

"I haven't had the greatest experience of marriage." Laura eventually volunteered, attempting an apologetic smile. "I've never been married before… and there's a reason for that." She paused to accommodate another monumental sigh, "My parents' marriage – my childhood - was a bit of a disaster, emotionally speaking. A lot of a disaster, really. They divorced when I was a teenager and, ever since, I've not exactly been marriage's greatest fan…" Laura laughed hollowly, "God, this all sounds so ridiculous and unimportant now… now that your dad's…" She swallowed down the bitter lump that was rising in her throat.

Lyn was toying again with the stray thread on her jeans. She didn't speak.

"I love your dad, Lyn. Really, I do. I have for a long, long time." The candour with which she spoke came as a slight surprise to Laura – so much of this conversation was unexpected - but hearing the words aloud soothed her. "And, whatever my misgivings about marriage, I am in this for the long haul. He's… everything to me."

Lyn smiled, registering the sincerity in Laura's voice. Relief flooded through her. She looked steadily at Laura, noting the pain in her face and the agitation in her hands as she toyed with her fingernails. She spoke gently: "He's crazy about you, you know?" These were words Lyn had never imagined herself saying. She remembered the strange sensation the moment she had first recognized the extent of her father's feelings for Laura – when he had sat in Lyn's kitchen and the love, affection and happiness he felt had shone in his face, despite the slightly more measured tone of his words. Lyn had cried that night – bittersweet tears for her mum and yet another sense of an ending, laced with the joy of seeing her dad so happy again. Yet, those tears seemed to have been shed a long time ago. Now she was ready to be the glue that held Laura together through this. If her dad recovered, she sure as hell wanted Laura to be by his side.

Laura's eyes were welling again. "Maybe not any more."

"Don't be daft. "It'll take more than a rejected marriage proposal to put him off. He's nothing if not doggedly determined. They don't call him a plodder for nothing."

Laura laughed, the sound wet with the moisture gathering in her eyes and throat.

"And… perhaps your experience of marriage has not been the best, but…" Lyn hesitated, wary of drawing this comparison, for her own sake as well as Laura's, but nevertheless feeling it might help. "Mum and Dad had a good marriage, you know." She watched the smile slide from Laura's face, but knew she wanted to say this on her dad's behalf. "A very good marriage. They were happy. They were a brilliant partnership. My childhood was full of love, support and good morals because of it. I know it's weird for me to say this – and it must be hard for you to hear it – but if I don't say it, who will... Dad's capable of commitment. He's capable of giving himself to someone else – of loving them completely, of making them feel safe, looked after and the centre of his world. I can say that because that's how he treated my mum, that's how I grew up…"

Laura sighed. "I know."

"He just wants to do the same for you."

"I know."

"I'm not saying he's perfect. God, no." Lyn laughed fondly. "He can be grumpy, cantankerous…"

Laura couldn't help but smile, "… obstinate…" she added.

"… slightly inept when expressing his feelings…"

"…yes." Laura knew that one well. "Overly engrossed in his work?"

"… _totally obsessed_ with his work! But maybe we should forgive him that, because if he was less obsessed, you two wouldn't have spent so much time together…"

"Maybe." Laura laughed. "Messy."

"Stuck in his ways."

"A spectacularly inconsistent cook."

"I'm surprised you let him anywhere near the kitchen!"

"with an over-inflated belief in his DIY capabilities…"

"… and many other things." Lyn completed the list, by which time they were both laughing.

"Well, he may not be perfect, but unfortunately we're both stuck with him. You, because he's your dad. And me, because… well, I can't imagine life without him."

Suddenly the levity went out of the conversation, as the haze induced by the wine fell and the agony of the situation penetrated once again with force. _Without him._ Laura took a deep intake of breath and stood to collect Lyn's wine glass, "Come on – time for bed, I think. You must be shattered."

Lyn nodded, grateful for the diversion from her darkened thought process. A wall of tiredness hit her.

"The spare room's ready for you." Laura placed the guard over the fire and discarded the wine glasses in the kitchen. "I'll just get you some towels." She called from the stairs.

Lyn stared at the dying glow of the fire through the mesh of the fireguard, alone now and unable to drag her mind from its preoccupation with the image of her dad, lying alone in hospital. Along with her father, she had relinquished any belief in God when her mother had been killed. But tonight she would pray for the first time in years.

* * *

Laura was up early the next morning, grateful for the sense of purpose that the descent of Robbie's family was affording. She made up the sofa bed in the study, ready for Pat's arrival; cleaned the kitchen; and slipped out to Waitrose to buy in supplies for a household capacity which would soon be made up to five, once Lyn's husband and son had ventured down from Manchester. It felt so good to be busy, but her industry was of course laced with regret that it had taken such an event to bring the family together beneath one roof.

She was making coffee when Lyn shuffled into the kitchen.

"Morning." Laura was relieved to see that some colour had returned to Lyn's cheeks.

"Morning." Lyn responded, groggily, squinting against the morning sun and gratefully accepting a steaming cup of caffeine. "I thought you would be at the hospital. I hope you weren't waiting for me."

"No, no." Laura lied. "I rang them early this morning – he's much the same. No change. I thought we could have some breakfast and then head over there together."

"Thanks, Laura. That would be great."

"Have you heard from Tim?"

"Yeah, he called last night before I went to sleep. They're going to set off as soon as Jack's finished school this afternoon. They'll run straight into the Friday rush hour traffic at Birmingham, but Tim just wants to get on the road."

"It'll be nice to have them here."

"Jack can't wait to see you."

Laura smiled, recalling their conversation last night and aware of the effort that Lyn was making.

"What have you said to Jack... about your dad?"

Lyn's face scrunched up in discomfort. "Just that Grandpa's very poorly and he's in hospital. I won't let Jack see him – just yet."

Laura nodded in agreement. "Probably for the best."

Suddenly, Laura's mobile sprang into life on the kitchen side. Lyn watched her face alter as she registered the caller ID.

"Hello?" Laura answered and Lyn felt her heart stop.


End file.
